


Blue Blood: March On

by GoblinWithAHeart



Series: Blue Blood [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strong Language, tags and rating may change, you all waited for the fluff and it is here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinWithAHeart/pseuds/GoblinWithAHeart
Summary: Sequel to Blue Blood: November Riots. Reading the first is not super necessary, but will help with understanding the OFC, June.---After the successful android emancipation movement, Detroit marches on. Androids are granted personhood and the rights that go with, CyberLife begins to see some justice for the damages they've caused, and Connor and June maintain their strange friendship. As Connor investigates a murder that opens a Pandora's Box that runs deeper than the surface, June tries to drag the injustices of the elite into the light. Neither of their efforts go unnoticed, and as their friendship develops into something more than fond companionship, they face peril from on high.---This is a work in progress! Updates will (hopefully) be regular throughout the week.





	1. Catching Up

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for clicking through! i couldn't help but explore june and connor's story more :) also we're gonna kiss the robot this time around. at some point. slow burn and all that. i have a few chapters written already, but we're kind of doing this one live, so bear with me as we go on this journey together!

“Moving and Shaking: Gardner Architecture’s Daring New Leader

Since the November Riots, the city of Detroit has been rapidly changing, even in the world of architecture and construction. The Gardner Firm holds 85% of the city’s building contracts, and has recently been taken under new management.

June Gardner, 25, has been in control of the massive company since the beginning of November, due to what she has proclaimed to be a ‘ruthless takeover.’ The initial transition of power went largely unnoticed due to the unfortunate timing coinciding with the Riots, but Miss Gardner made sure to catch the world’s attention on short notice.

In an unprecedented move, Gardner elected to publish all formerly private financial information to the public domain, ranging from standard project budget reports to the dozens of shell companies the Firm had previously used to evade taxation and other federal fees. The fallout from exposing this corruption created a domino effect of accusations, arrests, and firings not only within the Firm, but also among dozens of other offices, including Detroit city hall and CyberLife.

‘I believe that corporations are meant to serve the public, rather than the other way around,’ Miss Gardner commented when approached by this publication. ‘If we aren’t held accountable then you get this sort of wealth inequality that’s been plaguing the country for decades now.’

Since the publishing of these documents, there has been public outcry, citizens banding together to demand other corporations follow in the Gardner Firm’s footsteps to shed transparency on business dealings.

‘I never thought that the upper class could even hoard so much wealth,’ Jose Cruz, an unemployed father of two, commented on the street. ‘Imagine if even ten percent of that money had been taxed properly--the city would be a very different place. I can’t imagine what other companies are hiding, if this is just from one measly construction firm.’

Gardner Architecture continues to hold a monopoly on building contracts in Detroit, and Gardner didn’t make any indication of that to change. However, when asked what she planned to do next, Miss Gardner replied, ‘The Gardner Firm is very interested in non-profit projects right now. We plan to reinvigorate most of the low-income neighborhoods, including improving infrastructure and building the framework for small businesses to move into these areas and create a real sense of community. Additionally, with the influx of new projects, we are looking to add to our labor force.’

When pressed on whether that work force would include the newly naturalized android citizenry, Gardner’s position was clear: ‘The Gardner Firm sees no difference between a human and an android employee--all are welcome to apply, and our employees will all be compensated fairly.’

New construction projects for the Gardner Firm are planned to begin in February, 2039.”

Connor’s fingers moved over the screen of the tablet he had picked up from the small table next to his chair. The article was accompanied by a portrait of the woman in question, and she stood proudly next to the cornerstone of the Gardner Architecture building, a bright smile dimpling her cheeks, her green eyes bright and full of laughter. Long, curly brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and the whole look accentuated her youth. It was a far cry from the usual dour portraiture of Detroit’s corporate elite.

He had read the piece in less than a second, internalizing the information and committing it to memory as a habit. It was the picture he lingered over, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in her happy expression.

Eventually, he scrolled further into the digital magazine, skimming over articles about CyberLife’s immediate restructuring, an investigation into accusations of corruption against President Warren, and the myriad new legislation on android rights.

He was pulled out of his browsing by the sound of a door opening to his side. Connor stood as the person he’d been waiting for closed the door behind her, taking care to do so quietly. Finally, she looked to him and smiled, her cheeks dimpling just as they had in her picture.

“Hello, June,” Connor said, adjusting his tie as he returned her smile warmly. “You’re out of your meeting early.”

June moved to him, her smile turning mischievous, “One perk of being CEO is I can just do whatever I want.” A giggle fell from her lips and Connor felt his processor buzz in the familiar way it always did when she laughed. She happened to look down and see the magazine Connor had been reading. “I love that picture,” she said, picking up the tablet. “You outdid yourself with that one.”

“Thanks,” Connor replied, a tingle of pride running through his thirium veins. “I was surprised to see it on the cover of a magazine.”

June scrunched her nose, “They wanted something that made me look all serious, but I hated all the ones they took. I think this is a much better representation.” She set the tablet down and jerked her head towards the elevators down the hall. “You ready?”

“Of course,” Connor replied, and June held out her arm for him to take, only for him to reverse it and take hers instead.

“Boo,” she stuck out her tongue, walking with him anyway. “You’re no fun.”

“The gentleman is usually the one to take the lady’s arm,” Connor responded simply, and she knew he was being cheeky.

“That would require either of us being a gentleman or lady,” June retorted. “I can tell you I definitely do not fit either of those categories.”

“I think you can pretend until we get to the lobby.” June rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless, pressing the call button when the reached the steel doors of the elevator. The doors opened almost immediately, and the pair stepped into the glass enclosure, Connor choosing the button for the ground floor. He could feel the energy running through his companion, from her elevated heart rate to the way she bounced her leg. “You seem excited,” he observed.

June looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and she tried to hold back the smile threatening to overcome her. “I might be,” she said, offering up no more details.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening to the bustling lobby of the Gardner Architecture building. Everywhere Connor looked there were people coming and going--human and android alike. Since the announcement of equal employment opportunities and the new influx of public works contracts, the company was busier than it had ever been, hiring an entirely mixed workforce at every level and still not even hitting their budget cap.

The pair turned a few heads as they navigated the space, as both of them were semi-public figures now, but Connor ignored every curious stare, instead focusing on his companion. “This isn’t like the time you had me try that painting class where we were encouraged to drink wine, is it? That didn’t end well.”

June stifled her laugh with her free hand. “Okay, that was a fluke and you know it.”

“I never got the wine stains out of my shirt,” Connor replied, feigning a light annoyance.

They reached the exit of the building and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sky was clear, a bright sun uninhibited by clouds, shining down on the snow-covered city, and warming the air from frigid to freezing. June’s car rolled up to the sidewalk in front of them, and Connor disentangled their arms to open the door for the woman.

“And that’s why I’m taking you shopping!” June declared, sliding into the seat of the vehicle, Connor following in beside her, his expression skeptical. June programmed the car to their destination, looking back to her friend beside her. “What?”

“I already own clothes,” Connor said, confused at her choice of activity. “And I don’t see how this counts as helping me develop my interests.”

Since the end of the Riots, June had offered to get to know Connor better, to develop their strange friendship. She would take him out on a twice-weekly basis, proposing different hobbies and activities so he could try to find out who he really was, now that he was deviant. It had been hit-or-miss so far, though he did find he liked a few of the activities she’d suggested. The picture on the cover of the article had been the product of Connor trying his hand at photography. He had captured the moment on instinct, deciding to snap the picture just after he had said something to make her laugh.

He decided he liked photography.

“A man’s wardrobe is a key indicator of who he is as a person,” June replied matter of factly. “You look at a guy like Markus, and you know what he’s about.”

“Markus owns a ridiculous amount of clothing,” Connor said, a little defensively.

June levelled a skeptical stare at the android. “Connor how many shirts do you own?” Connor kept his mouth shut, but maintained eye contact. June narrowed her eyes in challenge. “The wine-stained one does not count.”

“Three,” he answered. 

June held her hands out, palms up. “See? You could do with an upgrade. Besides,” she elbowed him lightly in the arm, “it’s gonna be fun.”


	2. I Like Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got big plans for these two, we're only just warming up!!

June didn’t know about Connor, but she was certainly having the time of her life. The department store she had taken them to was multi-floored and offered several different styles of clothing to choose from. She bustled from rack to rack, ogling sweaters, button-ups, t-shirts, jeans, chinos, shoes, watches, ties--everything.

Connor was a little overwhelmed.

He stood in front of a mannequin, dressed in a cardigan over a graphic tee, paired with jeans rolled at the ankles, and brown leather shoes. Connor had analyzed the outfit, compared it to his searches of what constituted ‘fashionable,’ and found that even if all the results pointed to the look being good, Connor didn’t  _ get _ it.

“Find anything you like?” June asked, suddenly beside him. He hadn’t noticed her approach, too preoccupied with his task at hand. Her arms were filled with various pieces, though they appeared to all be for her.

“I--no,” Connor admitted. He fiddled with the coin in his pocket. “Truthfully, I don’t really know what to look for.”

June nodded, her brows pulling together in thought. “Well, I mean, we can start basic. Are there any colors you like in particular?”

Connor thought about it. He hadn’t considered having an affinity for any specific color, never really had a reason to. The answer came forth without much consideration, originating outside of his processor, “I like blue.”

“There’s a start!” June smiled, excited at the revelation. She was always happy to hear when he had a preference, and Connor was glad he could make her smile at something as simple as declaring a favored color. “Let’s find some blue stuff,” she declared, and Connor followed her as she took off deeper into the store.

\---

After about an hour of browsing, Connor was proudly building a collection of items he liked. It took a few tries before he was able to nail down what his preferences were when it came to his wardrobe, but soon enough a motif appeared.

Connor’s fingers slid over the smooth silk of the rich blue tie, feeling the raised bumps of the tiny geometric pattern beneath his fingertips. He plucked it from the stand, draping it neatly over his arm, on top of the stack of pieces he’d gathered. He found he liked straight-cut pants the best, and had a few pairs of jeans in various shades. He also liked his button-ups, branching out to different colors as well as a few flannel shirts for flavor. But most surprisingly, Connor found that he liked novelty socks.

“I find it’s a subtle way to express one’s interests when combined with a more professional appearance,” he had justified when June raised her brows at the pair he had picked out.

“You do like dogs,” she acquiesced, staring into the faces of French bulldogs that patterned the garments.

It was enough for Connor, and he added them to the basket, browsing the rest of the selection.

Now they were checking out, and Connor couldn’t help but examine the clothes that June had picked out for herself.

She seemed to adore floral prints, bright colors, and a more casual tone to her outfits. He knew this already from the time he’d spent with her, and how she always bemoaned having to dress more formally for any occasion. But he also knew that she considered her business clothing as a type of armor, and usually stayed with muted neutrals and cutting-edge fashion whenever she needed to behave like the CEO she was. The duality fascinated Connor, and he was thankful that she was comfortable enough around him to show her more casual side. It made him feel… Important.

“Your total today is seven-hundred-twenty-three dollars,” the cashier smiled brightly as he announced the number, and June hardly batted an eye as she placed her phone over the terminal, authorizing the charges. She thanked the cashier, grabbed the bags and smiled to Connor.

“You’re an expensive shopping buddy,” June laughed as she began to walk to the exit, Connor in tow.

“I could have paid for my portion of the purchase,” Connor rebutted, and June only shook her head. “The DPD does pay me now.” Though he had been granted the right to earn wages after the Riots, in reality, he wasn’t sure he’d  _ actually _ be able to cover the cost.

“I invited you out, so I pay for the trip,” June replied, handing over the bag with his clothes.

“You pay for every trip,” Connor protested. “You also bought me a nine-hundred dollar camera on the  _ possibility _ that I would enjoy using it.”

They stepped outside to the cold December air and June waved her free hand, “Oh, stop complaining and just let me be your sugar mama.”

Connor had to look up that phrase. “You are  _ not _ my sugar mama,” he said, and June just kept walking, ignoring his protests. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop, and she turned to face him, surprised. “I’m serious, June. I feel like I’m just allowing you to spend money on me carelessly. I want to treat you to something, too.” He held her gaze with his eyes, and he saw her green orbs search his.

A blush crept up her cheeks and she looked away. “I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t mean to just steamroll over you like this.” Connor released his grip on her arm and she looked up at him again, chewing her bottom lip. He watched as she released it from her teeth, transfixed by the way it bloomed a darker pink from the pressure. “Tell you what,” she began, and he blinked, focusing back to her face, “How about I stop by the precinct tomorrow and you treat me to lunch? I’ve got a bitch of a conference call in the morning and would appreciate blowing off some steam afterwards.”

Connor considered the plan, and finding no disagreements within him, smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Good!” June said, a decisive nod cementing the plan. “You want a ride home? It’s on the way.”

Connor shook his head, knowing full well that she lived in the complete opposite direction from him. “No, thank you. I’ll let you know tomorrow if anything comes up that would get in the way.”

“Sounds like a plan,” June said, beginning to step away towards the parking garage. “See you later, Connor.”

Connor waved in response, his processor whirring as he ordered a cab. He turned to the street as June left. He was a little excited at the prospect of turning the tables on their usual routine, for once being able to prove he could do something for her in exchange for everything she’d already done for him.


	3. Ambitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kamski, you manipulative ass. thanks for all the kudos and comments! you all are the best!

The drive back to her home was quiet, soft music playing from the radio as June scrolled through her newsfeed. She was needlessly CC’d onto so many emails… A breaking news bulletin caught her eye, though, the headline claiming an important announcement from CyberLife within the hour.

June pursed her lips. She hoped they were announcing their immediate liquidation. Honestly, fuck CyberLife--it had come out that they had been covering up deviancy cases since 2036, a full two years before the Riots were even a concept. Combine that with the mega corporation's fingers being deep in the federal government’s pockets, and June could not care less what happened to that bastion of corruption.

She locked her phone as her car rolled to a stop in front of her home. Grabbing her shopping bags, she exited the vehicle and approached her front door, the car driving itself around to the garage. She unlocked her door with the press of a palm and entered the lavish foyer, finally redecorated in a style of her  _ own _ choosing.

She hauled her bag upstairs to her bedroom, tossing it carelessly onto her bed before plopping down at her desk.

June booted up her computer, the monitor flickering to life, her desktop image a group photo of her and her two closest friends since the November Riots. She knew Ashante had returned to Chicago for the winter break at his university, but June hadn’t spoken to Tonya in about a week, and she made a mental note to figure out what the woman and her beau were up to these days.

But she had work to finish, so she pulled her train of thought into the station and opened her file explorer and scrolled through her recent files to her pet project: a folder titled Android Resource Center. The name needed work, but the concept was what really inspired her. She swiped a draft image upwards, the screen projecting it larger and the surface of her desk began to raise at an angle, creating a digital drafting surface.

She plucked up her stylus and continued her sketching and planning. Of the myriad public works projects she’d forced on her company, this one was one she held a close secret. It was easy enough to get support when the projects were rehabilitating housing and infrastructure for humans, but the public opinion on androids was still quite mixed.

The American workforce had all but doubled over the course of the last weeks, with androids demanding equal wages and benefits for their work. Unemployment was still a huge issue, and now it was spread out amongst more people than before. So there were still large swaths of humans who absolutely  _ despised _ androids, protesting even more fervently than before against their rights. There was also a substantial pushback in congress, though June surmised it was due to corporate investors lobbying their local representatives to try and get their slaves back than any sort of true ideals.

So for June to propose a community resource for androids was a move a little too ballsy just yet. Besides, while she had more than enough money to design, permit, and build the damn thing, she lacked the channels to properly staff and stock it.

She envisioned it as a hub for androids to receive bodily maintenance, mental health counseling, and legal consultation, on top of strengthening the robotic community to improve their bargaining power against the US government.

But all that required specialized technicians, access to biocomponent manufacturing, android behavior specialists… The list went on and on. All things that June would have to wheel and deal to even begin to really believe the ARC was a possibility.

A niggling thought at the back of her mind resurfaced, and she tried to quash it down before she could even start considering the idea.

She was  _ not _ going to CyberLife for help.

June grimaced as she thought of the company. It represented everything wrong with corporate America; the greed, the corruption, the sheer disregard for all the pain they had caused.

The headline from before came back to her, and she admitted she was curious. There was going to be an announcement from the former titan of industry, and June wondered what was so important.

Without looking up from her work, she tapped her phone, flicking a news broadcast to play on the television embedded into the wall to her left. The announcement hadn’t happened yet, the anchor instead droning on about the Warren investigations. It provided good enough background noise as June continued to work, choosing to try to nail down the look of the building’s proposed exterior.

\---

An hour or so passed, and June was completely enveloped in her work. It had been a long time since she’d really flexed her rendering muscles, and found that she still found the process very cathartic. She designed the building to be a mix of industrial futurism, trying to marry the concept of Detroit’s past with the embodiment of a bright tomorrow.

It got her thinking about exactly  _ how _ she’d pull off the project, and more and more she thought of the possibility of allowing CyberLife a second chance, a way to redeem itself after all the sins it committed. After all, June had purged the Gardner Firm, plucking out every last iota of shady business. Who was to say the company wouldn’t fall under new management and be open to the idea of doing the same? When it came down to it, there really was no one else as well-versed in android tech than the very company than originated it.

A burst of emphatic notes sprung from the speakers overhead though, and June instantly recognized it as the chime announcing a breaking broadcast. June turned her attention to the tv.

The anchor spoke excitedly, “Happening live now, CyberLife announces a major restructuring in management. We’re going live to our correspondent at the press conference.”

The scene shifted to a man standing in the back of a crowded room, filled with reporters and journalists, some seated in chairs lined in rows before a small stage with a single podium. Dozens of microphones sat atop the small structure, currently empty. “Thanks, Karen,” the man said, his voice raised to be heard over the small cacophony of other voices. “In mere minutes we will be hearing what CyberLife plans to do after the sudden firing of former CEO Georgia Phan. As you know, CyberLife has been embroiled in several high-profile lawsuits and extensive layoffs after stocks plummeted following the November Riots--”

He was cut off by a sudden uproar as several people in suits filed onto the small platform, and the reporter described them as CyberLife’s board of directors. One woman stood at the podium as the others sat in chairs at the back. June quirked her brow, there were only one or two familiar faces in the lineup of high-profile board members. It seemed the layoffs hadn’t just been at the lower levels. She was a little pleased.

The woman at the podium raised her hands to quiet the room, and the din died down almost immediately. After a short pause, the woman spoke, her voice a low timbre, “Thank you all for attending tonight. I’m sure you’re all wondering why we have asked you all here for this announcement, and I don’t plan on keeping you waiting for too much longer.” The woman smiled, her affectation a little  _ too _ personable for June’s tastes.

“It is my great honor to announce a new leader at CyberLife.” She paused, her smile never fading, “Though I think ‘new’ may be a rather disingenuous term.”

Dread hit June like a dumbbell to the face. “No,” she said, her tone incredulous. They weren’t--they  _ wouldn’t _ .

“I’d like you all to join me in re-welcoming Elijah Kamski as CEO of CyberLife.” The woman turned to the steps leading up to the stage, and the camera swung over to show none other than the smug bastard himself ascending the few steps to a chorus of surprised murmurs mixed with applause led by the woman.

“Mother _ fucker _ ,” June swore, standing from her desk so quickly her chair slid across the hardwood floor several feet, bumping into the frame of her bed.

Elijah took the podium, and he looked much the same as he had the last time June had seen him, though he was without his useless glasses this time. The roar of journalists’ voices came through the speakers and Elijah simply smiled, raising a single hand to take control of the room.

“Thank you, Tara,” he said, nodding to the woman, who smiled in return and took a vacant seat with the rest of the board at the back of the platform. “And thank you all,” he continued, resting his palms on the top of the podium as he spoke. “It’s with great honor that I reclaim my position as CEO of this great company. I know that in the recent weeks, CyberLife’s reputation has taken a turn for the worse, but believe me when I say that under my leadership, all of Detroit will get to know a new CyberLife, one better than before.

“I intend to rebuild the company from the ground up, refocus our mission to one of service, as I had envisioned it to be so many years ago. No longer will we manufacture androids with the purpose of servitude. Rather, we will repurpose our brand to help the androids we have created, building spare parts and providing maintenance. Additionally, we will rebudget to use over sixty percent of our annual spending on the research and development on cybernetic prosthetics and other quality-of-life improvements for humans. I invite you all to please ask any questions you have, my board of directors shall remain to answer. Thank you.” Elijah nodded once, then exited the stage, deaf to the uproar of the journalists springing to their feet and shouting questions after him. The woman took the stage again and June angrily turned off the tv, completely disinterested in whatever crap they were about to shovel to the press.

“What a fucking--” she growled instead of finishing her thought, too pissed off to think coherently. There was only one thing to do in this situation.

June swiped up her phone and dialed the number from memory, waiting as the ringing sounded in her ear. She stormed out of her bedroom as the line picked up, and her voice was filled with fury as she immediately started in on what would turn out to be a legendary tirade, “Tonya, you are not going to fucking believe this.”


	4. Maketh Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> investigation scenes are the hardest to write, stg. thank you for your continued support!!

Connor sat quietly in the living room of Hank’s home, watching the broadcast with interest. Hank sat at the kitchen table, chopsticks in hand as he slurped a noodle from the Chinese takeout box in front of him. He was watching as well, though his reaction was less measured than his android roommate’s.

“What a jerk-off,” Hank groused, shaking his head. “Never did like that guy.”

Connor remained silent, his thoughts wandering to the hundreds of different implications of the jarring announcement. It was all but certain that Kamski had created androids with the intention of them deviating from the start, coupled with the fact that CyberLife had tried to usurp his program and force him to kill Markus after the Riots had Connor feeling extremely uneasy.

“You alright there, kid?” Hank asked, watching Connor’s LED flicker yellow in the dim light of his living room.

His voice roused Connor from his reverie, and he blinked, calming his thoughts. “Yes,” he replied, turning behind him to look at the older man. “I was just surprised.”

“You and the rest of the world,” Hank said through a mouthful of chow mein, “I can’t believe they’d do this stupid shit.” Connor once again said nothing, and Hank knew Connor wasn’t telling the whole truth. He decided not to push it. Since Connor had turned deviant, Hank knew he was still working through the whole ‘human emotions’ thing. Hank could relate, and knew sometimes what a man needed was space. “Turn it to the game,” he said, trying to change the mood of the room.

Connor did as instructed, and the sounds of basketball filled the silence after a moment. Still, Connor said nothing, and Hank was growing a little impatient with his partner’s silence. Normally, he was more than eager to talk to Hank, especially after one of his try-something-new days.

Hank scraped the last of the noodles into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, wondering what it would take to get Connor’s mind off the unsettling announcement. Finally, he swallowed, and decided to go with the nuclear option. “So, what did you and your little girlfriend get up to today?”

“June is not my girlfriend.” The speed with which Connor whipped his head around and denied Hank’s claim was almost comical.

“Sure, sure,” the older man placated, standing with a pop in his knees to throw away the empty box and chopsticks. “Saw you came in with a bag.”

“June thought it would benefit me to own more clothes,” Connor explained, and Hank smirked at how easy it was to get Connor talking about the woman. “So she took me shopping.”

“What did you think?”

“Initially, I didn’t understand the purpose, but I think I’ve come to a better understanding of how one’s clothing can represent one’s… Essence.”

Hank nodded sagely, “So you’re sayin’ you’ll finally get rid of that fucking CyberLife jacket now?”

Connor opened his mouth to reply but snapped it shut again, a defensive swell rising in his chest. He hadn’t realized he’d harbored any opinion on his standard-issue blazer, but now found himself embarrassed that he had kept it all this time. He was no longer under their thumb, and he should have shed it long ago. “I--yes.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Hank replied, heading to the fridge. Connor opened his mouth to protest again, he’d been attempting to get Hank to significantly reduce his alcohol consumption over the past month. “One beer won’t kill me, Connor,” Hank interrupted before the android could say anything, pulling a brown bottle from the shelves inside.

Connor watched as the lieutenant popped the metal cap from the bottle and take it to his lips. “You really shouldn’t drink that,” he said, to which Hank only replied with a deep swig.

\---

The next day, Connor stood in front of the closet, his new selection of clothes hung up before him. He felt overwhelmed by choice, the different hues and textures a tantalizing array that paralyzed him with the different options and combinations. He knew he wanted to wear something new, but now that he was confronted with the choice…

Connor decided to play it safe, electing for an outfit very similar to his usual garb. Dark jeans, white button-up; but this time a dark blue tie and black blazer devoid of his CyberLife logos.

He examined himself in the full-length mirror, tightening his tie and tugging on the lapels of his jacket. He looked like himself, at least. It was a definitely a  _ safe _ option. He recalled that June would be meeting with him so he could take her out to lunch, and he was suddenly preoccupied with impressing her, with proving that her lesson hadn’t gone ignored. An idea struck him then, and he reached into a small basket in the closet, pulling out one more item he had obtained the day before. It would be the perfect amount of personality added to his ensemble.

\---

Hank and Connor had barely made it into the precinct before they were sent out on a case.

Since the November Riots, the lieutenant and android had become the de-facto duo when it came to cases involving violence against androids. This fact led them to a body stuffed into a dumpster, thirium still shining blue against the grungy metal walls.

The pair approached the scene and found they weren’t the only officers to respond; Detective Reed and his partner were present as well.

The pair did their best to ignore Reed, but he made his obnoxious presence known  _ tout suite _ .

“If it ain’t old man Winter and the Robocop,” Detective Reed sneered, his arms crossed and a derisive grin splitting his face.

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor replied coolly, taking a moment to analyze the scene.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Gavin?” Hank retorted, giving a sidelong glare at the younger officer. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, the cold air chilling his fingertips.

“Hey, careful when you handle evidence, Anderson. Don’t want shaky hands to drop anything,” Reed continued his roast, elbowing his partner who only seemed to look a little uncomfortable.

Connor finished his initial analysis of the scene, finding several points of interest to investigate. But he would need to do so without distraction. “Detective Reed, thank you for securing the crime scene. Lieutenant Anderson and I will take over from here.” Connor knelt down beside the dumpster, his enhanced vision finding strange, stray fibers. He didn’t notice the hem of his jeans creep up ever so slightly.

Of course, Gavin Reed was like a predator in his ability to spot any reason to bully someone. “What the fuck are you wearing? Are those fucking _dog_ _socks_?”

Connor immediately straightened up, a strange heat building in his chest and blooming upwards. Reflexively, he grabbed his tie and tightened it, his mouth opening to retort, to reply, to say  _ something _ , but no words came out.

“Why don’t you mind your own goddamn business and get out of my crime scene,” Hank spit at Reed, acid coating every word. Reed glared openly at the older man, his attention shifted from his target for a moment. Hank returned the glare with equal intensity. “That’s an order,  _ Detective _ .”

Reed stood there for a moment, his partner looking between him and the lieutenant. Finally, Reed uncrossed his arms, giving an exaggerated shrug. “Fine by me,” he turned and began walking out of the dingy alley. “Wouldn’t want to meddle with the dysfunctional duo.”

Hank watched the two detectives exit onto the sidewalk, Reed’s partner giving a shy wave of goodbye. “Jesus H. Christ,” Hank swore, shaking his head. “This is why that man can’t keep a goddamn partner. What an asshole.”

He turned back to his android partner, who seemed to be lost in thought. Hank squinted at Connor, saw the pink tint to his ears, and knew the android was completely unaffected by the cold. Was he  _ embarrassed _ ?

“Connor,” Hank started, apparently jerking the younger man out of his thoughts, as Connor quickly looked up from the middle distance to his partner. “Don’t let Reed get to you. He’s just a dog barking at trees.”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant.” Connor insisted, turning to look back at the grisly crime scene. “We should investigate before any evidence deteriorates.”

Hank knew Connor was not as fine as he let on. He only called him Lieutenant when he was hiding something. But again, it wasn’t Hank’s job to play armchair therapist, and allowed the moment to pass. “Alright, Connor. What do we got?”

Connor reviewed the points of interest he had initially tagged in his memory, and knelt back down beside the dumpster, reassessing the strange fibers caught on a piece of rusted metal. Connor reached out and grasped the small fibers, finding that they were a blend of synthetic cotton and the real thing. It was a rare blend, not often found outside of high-end clothing and accessories. It was highly unlikely anyone in this neighborhood had any clothing of this quality.

The android stood again. He couldn’t be sure it was anything of importance, but filed it away in his memory nonetheless.

He turned his attention to the thirium-splattered body shoved haphazardly into the trash. Connor reached out, two fingers extended to swipe through the rapidly-drying liquid.

“Do you  _ really _ have to do that?” Hank asked, a grimace twisting his features.

“It’s either this or wait for lab results to come back,” Connor touched the blue liquid, bringing it to his mouth. “Forensics is backed up two weeks.” He lightly touched the thirium to his tongue and Hank let out a disgusted grunt as Connor’s cutting-edge technology quickly delivered him the information he was looking for.

“We got a model and serial?” Hank was puttering around the area, not to be outdone by his partner. He may not be a one-of-a-kind million-dollar machine, but he had experience on his side.

“He was a WR600. Serial #212 275 318; he was designated ‘Christopher.’” Connor observed the extensive damage to the android body. “Multiple blunt force wounds, concentrated around the head and neck. Defensive wounds present.” He tilted his head, trying to find the answers within the split plastic casing.

“Sounds like someone was pissed off,” Hank mused, toeing away a stray piece of cardboard. “Crime of passion?”

“It’s hard to say,” Connor replied. He looked up, finding forensics beginning to appear on the scene. “Tensions are high between humans and androids.”

“Any chance we could get into its memories?” Hank stood next to Connor, his head tilting to the side as he took in the gruesome sight.

Connor shook his head. “The damage to the cranium is too extensive. Even if we could get him booted back up, the chances of his memory files being intact are close to zero.”

“Maybe whoever killed him knew that,” Hank mused. “Maybe he knew something that couldn’t get out.”

“Maybe,” Connor agreed, though there was not nearly enough evidence to even begin to speculate on a motivation. For all they knew, the victim was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the target of someone’s misplaced anger.

“We’ll let forensics take over from here,” Hank nodded to the suited-up techs, who waved to him with gloved hands. “Let’s see what they turn up.”

Connor felt Hank’s heavy hand fall on his shoulder, and he tore his gaze away from the body, turning towards the alley entrance with his partner. He didn’t know if it was just because of his newly developing emotions or what, but something about that dead WR600 struck Connor like a chord.


	5. Making New Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you think you're untouchable and piss off a bunch of powerful people but you don't pay enough attention because you gotta have lunch with a cute boi

June blinked her eyes slowly, the smile on her face pulling her lips taught and not at all reaching above her cheeks. The three other voices on the line were all speaking over each other, all with various talking points, all at an elevated volume, all pointed directly at her.

“Excuse me,” June began, raising her voice above the cacophony erupting from her computer speakers. Still, they all carried on, and she could picture all their veiny, rosy-tinted faces on the split screen in front of her. She knew this would be an unpleasant call, but June Gardner did  _ not _ negotiate on matters such as these. “ _ Excuse me _ ,” she tried again, louder and more forceful, and the three voices paused momentarily. June opened her eyes, steepling her fingers and smiling tightly. “Thank you,” she said, but didn’t have time to continue her thought.

“Who do you think you are, demanding these  _ conditions _ ? How long have we been doing business with the Gardner Firm? And now you think, just because you’re some sort of social justice upstart, that you can just demand we publish everything?” Spoke Mr. Roudeau, one of the largest suppliers of steel materials for the Gardner Firm. “It’s insulting!”

“Mr. Roudeau,” June began, but was once again cut off.

“Just because you’re fine with giving away everything your parents worked for, doesn’t mean we all want to piss away our companies and assets.” That was Sophia Reid, who owned the conglomerates that the Gardner Firm purchased their heavy equipment from.

June clenched her jaw, feeling her anger rising. She snapped her eyes to the third person onscreen, “Anything to add, Mr. Knightley?”

“No,” drawled the old man, the final participant in the call, his accent a New England affectation. “I believe Mr. Roudeau and Ms. Reid covered it all. There is no way we will be folding to your demands, Miss Gardner.”

June sighed. This was the part she hated most about running the Gardner Firm. For so many years, her parents had been complicit in shady deals with shadier companies, and while June had done her level best to purge the insides of her  _ own _ house, there were still these issues with the supply side of the business.

“Jim, Sophie, Frank,” June addressed her company, making sure to keep her voice level and light. “I appreciate all of your feedback. But I don’t think I’m asking too much of you.” She shrugged, the shoulders of her jacket rising and falling. “Just that you cut all ties with any illegal operations and fully publish your financial history. It’s easy, trust me. I’ve done it.”

Mr. Roudeau guffawed, his laugh bitter to June’s ears. “You’re a stone cold crazy bitch, June. What would Maurice and Letitia think of what you’re doing to their company?”

At the second mention of her parents, June lost all of her patience. She pinched the bridge of her nose, drawing a deep breath in and refocusing her attention to the three on her screen, all pretense of friendliness gone.

She may have hated this part of running her business, but she was taught the methodology well.

“I don’t give one half of a fuck what they think about  _ my _ company, Jim.” June spat, venomous. “And allow me to get to the point: you  _ are _ going to follow my demands, and you’re going to do it with bells on, and within the next two days, though I would recommend as soon as possible.”

“And why do you think we’ll do  _ that _ ?” Ms. Reid replied, her tone icy.

June sat up straight in her seat, keeping her eyes on the cohort. “I’m an immensely wealthy woman.”

Ms. Reid snorted, “We’re  _ all _ immensely wealthy. You couldn’t bribe us with anything.”

“You don’t understand,” June continued. “I use my immense wealth a little differently than you all do. I don’t go out and, say, buy thirty-four shell companies to hide the fact that I’ve been funnelling millions of dollars of my company’s profits to keep factories in India open despite  _ numerous _ injuries, deaths, and pollution citations. I don’t buy the loyalty of the Senegalese government to avoid tariffs on my goods, as an example. I don’t grease the palms of South American dictators to facilitate a Red Ice operation as a side business.” June watched as one by one, their faces paled. “No, I use my immense wealth to buy the very best private investigators.”

“This is blackmail!” Mr. Knightley shouted, slamming his fist on his desk, shaking the picture on June’s screen.

“Frank, it’s  _ not _ blackmail,” June shook her head. “It would be blackmail if I held these findings over your head to get what I want. I’ve already published my findings to several  _ very _ reputable news sources.”

“You heinous bitch,” Mr. Roudeau cursed.

“What you decide to do to mitigate the fallout is in your own hands.” June rolled back in her chair, her palms flat on the surface of her desk. “And I wasn’t kidding about doing it ASAP. You’re all probably going to get a  _ lot _ of requests for commentary in the next hour or so.” June stood, barely contained within the frame of her camera. “So, if all that’s cleared up, have a good day. Toodles!”

June ended the call, watching her screen blink to black. She stood there for a second before falling back into her chair, her heart beating out of her chest. She slid down the plush leather, the large windows of her office depicting a picturesque wintry Detroit skyline.

She sighed a deep sigh, the rush of adrenaline slowly fading. It really had been a bitch of a conference call. She dug around in her jacket pocket, withdrawing her phone and checking the time. It was a little before noon and she wanted nothing more than to forget about this godforsaken office for a little while.

Her fingers typed out a quick text, and she earned a reply within seconds.

_ You at the station? _

_ Yes. Lunch? _

_ PLEASE. _

\---

The beauty of automated cars was that June could watch the aftermath of her actions play out on the news in real time, instead of having to focus on driving. She had to admit, there was a kind of sick sense of pleasure from watching those three have to answer for their crimes, one way or the other. They had two choices: drain their swamps and try to save their companies in the eyes of the public, or be swallowed whole by the wrath of a justice system warming up to the idea of corporate criminality.

Either way, June was coming out on top.

She pocketed her phone, prying herself away from the headlines as the car pulled to a stop in front of the Detroit Police Department. She exited her car, allowing it to pull away and find its own parking. June took a minute to admire the building’s design, a habit she had rediscovered in the last few weeks.

June had never been to the building in person, not even when her parents were being investigated for numerous white-collar crimes, and she realized she was nervous to enter. Other than Connor, the last time she had been face-to-face with a law enforcement personnel, he had shoved the butt of his rifle into her eye. June absently touched the healed skin under her eye, remembering how it bloomed purple and red from the injury.

But that was a distant memory now, or at least it felt like it.

So she decided to stay in the present, and strode up the steps to the building. No use dwelling, she had a lunch date, after all.


	6. Lunch Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to set up for some Big Ideas down the line. also, writing is hard. thanks for your kudos, comments, and support! ps you know how authors always put a little of themselves in their characters? i fucking love sandwiches, that's what june and i have in common lol

Connor sat at his desk in the bullpen, files scrolling down his screen as he parsed the information from them all. There had been a rise in crimes involving androids--as the victims, more often than not--and even with he and Hank only focusing on the particularly violent cases or the ones involving death, there was still an influx that seemed to grow day by day.

Hank sat across from him, one hand propping up his bearded chin as the other tapped idly on his keyboard, slowly filling out a report. Forensics was still analyzing what they had found at the scene from earlier, and from first looks it didn’t seem like they had much to go on. It was frustrating.

Connor’s attention was drawn away from the files in front of him by the sound of a familiar voice.

“I’m here to see Detective Connor,” he heard, to which the front desk acquiesced entrance into the bullpen.

Hank noticed the way Connor seemed to perk up like a dog hearing a knock at the door, and followed his partner’s stare across the room. Hank scoffed, he should have known. June Gardner entered from the hall, her designer shoes clicking gently against the tile of the precinct. Her eyes scanned the room until they fell on the android across from him, and she gave a wide smile and a small wave.

Connor stood from his desk, straightening his tie in what Hank would assume to be an unconscious gesture as June approached. Hank saw a small smile creep up the corner of Connor’s mouth and he shook his head, returning his attention to the screen in front of him.

“Hi Connor,” June said, then turned to the older man, “and hello, Lieutenant.” Hank just gave a lazy wave in response.

“Hello, June,” Connor replied, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. “Are you ready for lunch?”

“Ugh, yes,” June sighed, slumping slightly. She straightened again though almost immediately, her smile returning. “You look nice, though.”

“Thanks,” Connor smirked fully now, his version of a whole smile. June offered him her arm, then, and Connor reversed it, taking hers instead.

June rolled her eyes, but followed him in step as they walked across the floor of the bullpen. “I’m excited to see what you’ve picked out.”

“I think you’ll like it,” Connor said, and Hank stopped paying attention to them after they reached the hall.

Now, Hank would be the first person to ridicule the idea of sappy romantic comedies in front of his pals at the bar. He would  _ also _ be the last person to admit to seeing  _ The Notebook _ more times than he could count. So he felt excused in trying to hide the knowing smile behind the fingers of his hand propping up his chin.

“What the fuck,” Hank heard behind him, and he groaned internally.

He refused to turn around and face the source of the curse, doing his level best to ignore what would most assuredly be a monumental show of assholery on the part of Gavin Reed.

“What is the world coming to, fuckin’ plastic asshole walking out with a dime like that,” Hank could practically hear Gavin turning to him, but he still refused to acknowledge the man. “Can you believe it, Anderson? Bitch must be fucking delusional. Let me show her what a real man can do,” Reed laughed at himself then, amused at his own locker room talk.

Hank sighed, his teeth clenched together, the sweet moment he had been savoring now completely ruined. “Shut the fuck up, Reed.”

\---

Connor was right, June did like his choice for lunch. The pair sat at a small table in front of the large window of a little sandwich shop. It was kitschy and cute, just teetering on the edge of pretentious, as most of these sorts of new-agey joints tended to be. But they served a damn good BLT, with house-made mayonnaise that was pretty good in itself.

June swallowed another bite of her sandwich, washing it down with a swig of water. “Seriously, how did you find this place?”

Connor sat across from her, his side of the table empty. “It’s on the way to a dog park that I frequent with Sumo. I thought it would be a good choice, since you’ve told me how much you enjoy sandwiches.”

“I love a good sandwich,” June agreed, sighing reverently. “You did good, Connor.” A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment, and Connor felt a sense of pride engulf him. A moment later, June perked up, “Hey, did you hear about CyberLife?”

“You mean about Elijah Kamski?” Connor replied, and June’s ensuing grimace told him he was right. “It was a… Surprising move.”

June growled lightly, taking a vicious bite from her sandwich. She chewed a few times, appearing to stew in her thoughts. “Fucker had to have planned it,” she said, swallowing. Connor watched as she licked a stray bit of mayo off her finger, her tongue darting out momentarily.

“You never told me what happened between you two,” he said, and he hadn’t meant to say that. He had planned on shifting the conversation, but the words left his mouth of their own accord, like he was distracted.

June huffed, looking out the window to the busy city street, a light snow beginning to fall. “What is there to say? He was an ass and I left him.” Connor had the feeling that there was a  _ lot _ to say about June’s past relationship with the man, but whenever the topic came up, she shuttered herself away in a moment. She sighed and returned her gaze to her companion, shaking off the train of thought that had plagued her momentarily. “But how has your morning been?”

Connor thought back to the grisly murder, and felt it best to leave the details of that particular portion of his day out. “It’s been fine,” he replied instead, not necessarily lying.

“What did everyone think of your new threads?” June asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Connor felt a rush of heat spread through his chest as he recalled Detective Reed’s biting commentary on his wardrobe.He could tell that June took note of the sudden change in his demeanor, her expression changing to concern. “I--they didn’t say much.”

“Connor,” she began her tone soft yet searching.

It took a moment, but he decided to relent. June was Connor’s confidante and friend. He could tell her. “Detective Reed was rather… Critical of some of my wardrobe choices.” He looked up, meeting his companion’s eyes. “I didn’t like that.”

June looked into Connor’s deep brown eyes, and while she knew this hurt wasn’t deep, she still knew that Connor had chosen his outfit himself, for once, and that meant  _ something _ . And some jerkwad making her friend feel bad was positively unacceptable. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you look real nice.” She popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth, wiping her hands on a napkin.

“Thank you,” Connor smiled again, the embarrassment of the recalled memory fading at her approval. “I know I didn’t branch out too far,” he added, “but I did wear the socks.”

June’s eyes widened, gesturing for him to show her, and he dutifully pulled up the hem of his pants to show her the repeating pattern of French Bulldog faces. “Dude, sweet!” June replied, leaning over the side of the table to look more closely. A thought struck her then, and she sat back up in her chair. “Are those what that guy was making fun of?”

“Yes,” Connor replied, matter-of-factly, watching as June’s face turned stormy.

“Does he do that kind of stuff… Often?”

“Yes,” he affirmed again, his brows knitting together as June’s eyes focused on the middle distance. If Connor was reading her right, she seemed to be planning something. “Why?” He asked, and June snapped out of her reverie, a smile covering up her once darkened expression.

“Oh, no reason,” she replied, shrugging. “Jerks gonna jerk, I guess. Don’t worry about it.”

Connor wasn’t worried about it, but he definitely had some concerns. He decided to let it go, though, and changed the subject. “How was that conference call?”

“Oh,” June began, fiddling with the ice in her glass. “Fine, I guess. I was able to make some headway on convincing some of my colleagues in going straight.”

A beat passed between them, and Connor watched her, neutral through and through. Finally, he spoke, “You blackmailed them.”

“It’s  _ not _ blackmail,” June replied, rolling her eyes. “Blackmail would be holding it over them. I didn’t.” She looked at him, and he said nothing in return. She began to squirm under his scrutiny. “Look, there’s no other way to get through to people like that. Jim Roudeau has never had to face a consequence in his life.”

“Have you?” Connor asked, and June was taken aback.

“I-- _ yes _ !” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Tons.”

Connor leaned back in his chair, a habit he’d been working on since becoming deviant. He found that his normally stick-straight posture made him feel a little  _ too _ robotic. He regarded the woman in front of him. He had known June for over a month now, their strange first encounters becoming a valued friendship for the both of them. Connor knew her pretty well by now, with all the time they’d spent together over the last weeks, and this particular subject was a sort of sticking point for her. She could sometimes vacillate wildly between being able to acknowledge her extreme privilege and being utterly blind to her own luck.

Connor raised one eyebrow as June stubbornly refused to look at him. “You do realize how close you are to being just like them,” he said.

June shook her head, steadfastly examining her glass. “The difference between me and them is that I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Maybe not to you,” Connor conceded. “But to them, you’re the villain.”

June shrugged, finally looking back to the android, a wry smile on her lips. “Well, should they find any dirt on me, they are more than welcome to come knocking down my door.” She straightened up, leaning over the table, “But for now, you tell me where you’ve gotten these theories about morality from, Mr. Kant.”

\---

One philosophical discussion later, and Connor graciously paid for their lunch date, the two exiting the little shop side-by-side. The cold Detroit air stung June’s cheeks, while her companion remained completely unaffected.

“Sometimes it must be nice to be immune from the cold,” June said, slipping on gloves she had stowed in her pocket, her breath fogging out from her lips. She laughed, turning to Connor, only to be struck by his odd disposition.

He stiffened at the mention of the cold, a memory flashing through his mind faster than he could try to block it out. The cold…He remembered how the freezing air in the Zen Garden had enveloped him in an icy grip, his entire body burning and going numb at the same time. It was meant to kill him, to destroy his newly-found freedom so CyberLife could use him as a puppet, a means to an end. If he hadn’t--hadn’t been able to...

June watched Connor curl his fingers, balling his hands into fists. “Connor?” She asked, worried.

He seemed to snap out of it then, his shoulders rising and falling with a breath that left no steam in the cold air. “I’m okay,” Connor said, shaking his head to free himself from the memory completely. “Just a thought.”

“Okay,” June was unsure of his answer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Connor replied, turning to her and giving one of his smirks that didn’t reach his eyes. “I should be heading back to the precinct.” He gave a wave, “Thanks for coming to lunch with me.”

“Uh,” June watched him as he turned and began walking away, thrown by his uncharacteristic mood swing. “You’re welcome.”

But he was already halfway down the sidewalk, and June was left standing there in the cold, wondering what was up.

She guessed she wasn’t the only one with baggage.


	7. Don't Be Afraid to Catch Feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the hiatus! health stuff, life stuff, all that. but here's the next part! poor june is an idiot and i love her

June didn’t go back to the office after lunch. She was bothered by Connor’s behavior and honestly didn’t have the energy left to deal with the ins and outs of the Gardner Firm, not after her video conference with its three most powerful connections.

Instead, she was back to work on her pet project, the ARC a helpful distraction from the various stresses of her life. In the weeks since her dismantling the shackles of her depression, June found it helpful to have something to  _ do _ whenever she was overwhelmed. Before, she’d just take a nap. As it was, she was designing the floorplan for the repair wing of the building, where androids could seek free or low-cost maintenance. As she worked, her thoughts ambled aimlessly to the tune of the music filtering from the speakers embedded in the ceiling.

But her thoughts ambled in circles. She’d try to steer them away, but no matter what, they always came back to one thing. The one thing that kept her bothered.

Normally, June would be able to zen out and just work through what was on her mind, but this time, what was on her mind wouldn’t go away.

Because it was Connor.

June leaned back in her chair and sighed, her hands covering her face. Of course she couldn’t get him off her mind. Something had upset him, and she cared for him. As a friend. And friends cared when another friend was sad.

She stood from her chair, suddenly restless, her stylus clattering to the tablet surface unceremoniously. Abandoning her drafting, she exited her bedroom, heading for the kitchen on the floor below. She was making zero progress anyway, and she couldn’t keep that afternoon’s interactions from replaying over and over in her mind’s eye.

Something was bothering Connor, that she was absolutely sure of. Her hand gripped the railing of the stairs as she descended, deep in thought. She tried to figure out what it could be, but kept coming up empty.

He never seemed bothered by the cases he had to investigate, no matter how grisly they got, so that couldn’t be it. June’s brows were furrowed in concentration as she turned down the hall, the patterned paper on the wall hardly registering in her view.

As far as she knew, everything was okay between him and the lieutenant, though she did wonder how their roommate situation was going from time to time. It wouldn’t be unusual for there to be friction in that kind of environment, but June wasn’t convinced that was the reason either.

She rummaged through the cupboard for one of her favorite mugs, then another for that fruity tea she liked so well. Once those items were procured, she turned on the kettle and readied the tea bag, all from muscle memory. Her mind was too busy trying to dissect Connor’s reaction, and--

Wait. Was she taking this too seriously? June blinked, realizing she was halfway through pouring the hot water into her cup. She finished, dropping the tea bag into the water, letting the heat seep through the ceramic and warm her palms. She turned, leaning against the shiny quartz countertop, brows furrowed.

She was totally overanalyzing it, she decided. Connor was a fully-functioning being capable of handling whatever curve ball life was throwing at him, and June had to accept that he didn’t say what was bothering him for a  _ reason _ . She would just have to let it go.

June sipped her tea, the raspberry flavor rolling over her tongue. The music from her office had followed her down to the kitchen and filled the room with a gentle beat.

She didn’t  _ want _ to let it go.

June paused in raising her cup to her mouth.  _ Why _ didn’t’ she want to let it go? Connor was her friend, of course, but she left Tonya and Ashante to figure out their own ways. Why was she so obsessed with her android buddy?

He was always on her mind, it seemed. His stupid handsome face, that endearing way he only really half-smiled. He was really insightful even though he was still figuring out this whole ‘being alive’ thing. And the way he always was sweet and kind whenever she took him out on one of her little adventures to discover his interests, even if he found out quickly enough he hated it.

She smiled lightly, the steam rising from her cup warming the tip of her nose. She sighed, breathy and light, and--

_ Oh _ . Oh no.

June’s face fell, her back straightening against the counter.

Did she--had she caught _ feelings _ for Connor?

“Uh oh,” June said, all at once filled with a surge of adrenaline. She set her cup down on the counter, her feet smacking on the tile of her kitchen floor as she began to pace. “Oh no, uh oh.”

She must have been jumping to conclusions, right? Connor was just her friend; her sexy android friend who she felt the immense need to spend more and more time with and was half the damn reason she was working on the ARC to begin with and she admired him for overcoming his past and becoming the amazing man she saw developing before her eyes and--

Oh my god, June had caught feelings for Connor.

June stood stock still, the realization finally fully flooding over her like a tidal wave, pulling her to sit on the cold floor, legs akimbo in front of her.

She didn’t know what to do about this information, to be honest. She hadn’t entertained the thought of--of crushing on someone since she’d left Elijah and promptly sunk into a depression spiral. She never really thought she would ever get over it.

And it wasn’t even fair, not to her, not to  _ Connor _ . God, he didn’t deserve to have one of his friends get all mushy-gushy on him, not when he barely knew himself, let alone if he even wanted anything like a relationship, now or  _ ever _ . Did he even know if he liked men or women, or both, neither? Was he even given the right parts to--

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” June screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Stupid,” she cursed herself, “stupid,  _ stupid _ brain.” She was overthinking things, she had to be. She was just misplacing her friendly affection for Connor and was mistaken in thinking she--she  _ liked _ him.

June drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with crisp, clean air, blowing it back out through her mouth. With a determined gaze, she knew there was only one thing to do in this kind of situation.

June pulled out her phone and scrolled down to her recent calls, finding the contact marked  _ Tonya _ and pressing send.

In a few short rings, Tonya’s redheaded visage filled the screen. “Two days in a row, June. I’m surprised.”

“Shut up Tonya, I have to talk at you.”


End file.
